


Unexpected

by HaniTrash



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-14 21:14:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17515985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaniTrash/pseuds/HaniTrash
Summary: Will tracks Hannibal to Europe, but instead of meeting at the Botticelli, Will surprises Hannibal at the apartment. What happens next is something Hannibal never saw coming...**this will involve extremely dubious consent/borderline rape. consider yourself warned if you choose to continue reading**





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a post on fb from DuchessofYork ... apologies to her if this goes darker than she expected, lol

The knock on the door late in the evening surprised Hannibal. He glanced at Bedelia, who looked just as confused as he. Though they rarely had visitors when not entertaining, they did not live alone in the building, so it was not out of the realm of possibility that a neighbor might be calling. He turned the water off and stepped away from the sink, drying his hands as he crossed the apartment.

With a deep breath to compose himself, Hannibal fixed a pleasant expression on his face and, towel flung over a shoulder, looking for all intents and purposes calm and relaxed, he opened the door. What he saw took that breath away and sent his heart racing.

“Will,” he said in shock.

Blue eyes he’d not expected to see again so soon, so unexpectedly, locked onto his. They were filled with anger, and it was a beautiful sight. Immediately upon the utterance, before he could recover himself and anticipate or react to anything else, Will was in motion. In one swift move, he brought his arm up and stepped into the doorway, plunging a needle into the side of Hannibal’s neck. His other hand held a gun, which he leveled on Bedelia as he pushed his way completely into the room and kicked the door shut behind him. Hannibal grabbed Will’s arm, intending to free himself and incapacitate Will, but found his grip weak, his response sluggish.

“Out,” Will commanded Bedelia as he grabbed hold of Hannibal’s collar and dragged him along behind. Hannibal’s head swam, his limbs quickly growing heavy and numb.

“Will, wha—?” he slurred.

“Shut up, Hannibal. Bedelia, get moving and get the hell out. Now. I have no reason to kill you, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be happy to invent one.”

“You self-centered little shit,” she spat at him.

“You got yourself here, in this situation, you can get yourself out. That’s what you do best, isn’t it, Bedelia? Cover your own ass? I’ll even be nice and give you five minutes to pack.”

Hannibal tried to look at her, to see what she was doing, but found himself unable to turn his head. The most he could do was roll his eyes up to study Will as the edges of his vision began to blur. Determination set Will’s jaw beneath the several days’ growth of beard. That he never took his attention from Bedelia was telling. Never once did he look down to check on Hannibal, so sure he must have been about the sedative he’d injected into him.

Bedelia walked past them, a bag in her hand. She stopped and looked down at him.

“You see? Even you, in all your infinite wisdom and planning, didn’t see this coming. Even you must face retribution for your actions.”

“Goodbye, Bedelia,” Will said, annoyance coloring his words. She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him as he continued. “I mean, you are welcome to stay and participate if you’d like. Though I think you fancy yourself to be above this, when we all know you’re not. You like to pretend that your hands are clean, when they’re just itching to get dirty, aren’t they? Do you want to know what it feels like to be covered in Hannibal’s blood? Hmm?”

She swallowed hard, taking several deep breaths before turning on her heel and stalking out the door, the sound of Will’s laughter chasing after her.

Will let go of Hannibal’s shirt and he fell to the floor, his head connecting soundly with the wooden surface. It should have hurt, and the fact that it didn’t made him think twice about Will’s intentions. If he meant Hannibal to feel pain, he’d be in for a bit of a wait as the drugs wore off. Yet if he allowed Hannibal to regain his faculties, he must know that he’d never win in a fight. He could hear Will moving around, preparing something, moving furniture and opening and closing doors. Hannibal tried to roll over, tried to move, only to find himself unable to do so.

Finally Will reappeared, standing astride Hannibal. His coat was gone as well as his shoes, and he wore only a plain t-shirt and jeans.

“I must say, I did not expect this of you, Will.”

“You didn’t think I’d come for you? After what you did?”

“Not like this, no.”

Will squatted down, now nearly sitting on Hannibal’s chest.

“I had plenty of time to think about what I’d like to do to you as my body healed, Hannibal. As Alana healed. As the grass grew in over Abigail’s grave.”

Hannibal closed his eyes against the pain he saw in Will’s. When he opened them again, he found himself on the bed. Instinct was to sit up, and he discovered that though he could feel his limbs and control his muscles once again, he remained unable to move. Lifting his head revealed why. Will had stripped him of his clothes, tied him spread-eagle to the bed clad only in his boxers.

A quick scan of the room, and Hannibal’s gaze fell on Will. He’d placed a chair at the end of the bed and sat there, watching Hannibal, waiting for him to awaken. There was a knife in his hand, the tip pressed against the thumb pad of the opposite hand as he spun it endlessly while staring at Hannibal with open malice. Hannibal recognized the handle, the curved blade. His eyes traveled up Will’s arms to his bare chest, and down his bare legs. Will had removed his clothing as well, wore only his boxers as well. A secret part of Hannibal was thrilled at the possibilities that afforded, the manifold implications behind the action.

He swallowed a few times before speaking. The sky outside the window had darkened fully. Without being able to see the clock, he had no way of knowing how long he’d been out.

“What did you give me?”

“A Benzo cocktail. Something fast-acting, immobilizing, but not enough to put you fully under. I only needed you subdued long enough to restrain you. I want you to be fully aware of everything I do, want you to feel as helpless as I did watching Abigail bleed out on the floor next to me.”

“Benzodiazepines? You are unconcerned about the disinhibition effects?”

“I’m fairly certain that I’ve already seen the worst of you, Dr. Lecter. You don’t need drugs to free the beast inside of you.”

“That may be true. Regardless, it is still a concern worth having. I already have impulse control issues. You compounded the matter.”

“Oh please. By this time the majority of the effects have worn off anyway, and you know that. Do you really think that I can’t restrain you properly? That I can’t tie a knot, or that you’ll be free of those ropes before I decide to let you loose?”

Will unfolded himself from the chair and Hannibal eyed the scar running across his abdomen. He couldn’t help the angry twitch that parted his lips in response. Whomever had sewn Will up had done a terrible job. Hannibal’s cut had been clean, neat. Yet Will had been left with a livid scar, and what looked like staple marks.

“It’s the strangest thing. Once I was conscious again, my stitches kept popping. The doctor accused me of doing it on purpose.” Hannibal lifted his gaze and met Will’s eyes at that statement, and knew it to be true. “Seems I wasn’t quite ready to be healed of you,” he added. “After all, I did follow you halfway around the world, didn’t I?”

“I did not ask you to follow me,” he replied, even though he was pleased Will had. “Your betrayal wounded me greatly. I clearly had misjudged the nature of our friendship, the depth of your loyalty.”

“If you didn’t want me to follow you, Hannibal, you’d have cut deeper. You’d have left me for dead, not just seriously injured.” Will climbed onto the bed as he spoke, knees to either side of Hannibal’s abdomen. “As for loyalty? I warned you. You were supposed to leave. You want to talk about betrayal? How about all the time I spent, convinced Abigail was dead, that you’d killed her and framed me for it—made me believe I’d been the one to do it—and then when I arrive at your house, I find her alive and well? Only to watch you kill her, for real, before my eyes? _Betrayal?_ ”

The knife danced along Hannibal’s throat, scratching but not quite breaking the skin. He froze. Will laughed, and the sound was terrifying in it’s madness.

“No, Hannibal, you needn’t worry about me slitting your throat. That would end this far too quickly for me to be satisfied, I’m afraid. You’re not getting off that easily.”

“No, I suppose not,” he said as the blade disappeared from his neck

“You want to know what I hate about you, Hannibal?” Will pressed the tip of the knife to his own chest. “I hate that I don’t know who I am without you. I hate that you have gotten so far inside my head—” he tapped his temple with the knife, “—that I don’t know where you end and I begin. I hate that you killed every good thing in my life. But most of all, I hate that even after all that—even after nearly killing Alana, nearly killing me—again, I might add, and after killing Abigail—even after all that?—I don’t hate you. I _want_ to hate you. This would be much easier if I did.”

The knife pressed into Hannibal’s shoulder.

“I _do_ want to scar you, physically, the way you have me. This gunshot wound on my shoulder is your fault.” He twisted the blade, piercing the skin. Hannibal clenched his jaw, breathing through the discomfort, trying desperately to control his body’s reaction to Will’s behavior. “If you hadn’t let me get so sick, hadn’t framed me for all those murders...” He pushed harder, dug the blade in further. “Nothing to say for yourself, even now.”

“Would you accept any apology I had to offer?”

Will grabbed Hannibal’s chin, held his face firm.

“No,” he answered bluntly. “Because none of them would be sincere. You didn’t regret your actions at the time, and I highly doubt that you’ve changed your mind since then.”

Hannibal’s lips twitched, and he let a small grin spread on his face. Will’s gaze lingered on Hannibal’s mouth before he pushed away, sitting back on Hannibal’s thighs.

“You know me so well? Is that it, Will?”

Without preamble, the knife dug into Hannibal’s abdomen, not as deeply as he’d cut Will, but just barely breaking the skin. Hannibal watched Will’s tongue slide between his lips as he stared at the blood pooling on Hannibal’s torso. He was finding it quite difficult to keep the joy from his face. He’d succeeded in pushing Will over the ledge after all. Being on the receiving end of Will’s wrath, his retribution, was not new. But to see now that Will had embraced the anger, the darkness, had planned this, and now he was at Will’s mercy … the evolution unfolding before his eyes was nothing short of beautiful.

“I hate that when I first saw you again, walking down the street, my initial reaction wasn’t rage. Wasn’t hate. Wasn’t anything I expected to feel.” Will’s hand massaged the blood, smearing it across Hannibal’s stomach.

“What did you feel, Will?” he finally asked, softly, nearly breathless with anticipation when Will didn’t elaborate.

Slowly, Will’s head lifted. Their eyes met. Will’s pupils were dilated, his breathing heavy.

“Lust,” he whispered.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“It is possible for one’s mind to conflate love and lust with violence. You will derive some bit of satisfaction from your actions here, from hurting me. That it excites you is unsurprising. You have bested me. After, as you pointed out, everything I have done to you. You are in control now, a feeling you have not previously experienced in our dynamic. I must—”

“Shut up! Jesus fucking Christ do you ever stop?”

Will grabbed Hannibal’s face, thumb and fingers squeezing painfully on his jaw. The knife reappeared, now pressed against his cheek.

“Just stop,” he said softly, his face hovering over Hannibal’s. “You know I am aware of all this.”

Between them, Will’s body was giving him away. He loosened his grip, sitting back once more.

“This is a new experience for you then, is that it? These feelings you are having toward me?”

“My feelings for you are inconvenient, Dr. Lecter. And … thoroughly confusing.”

The knife pressed into his chest above his heart, scoring the skin lightly.

“Removing my heart won’t change yours, Will.”

“I’m curious to see if it’s as black as I believe.”

“I can assure you, Will, it is not.”

For a moment, neither spoke. Tension grew between them. Hannibal waited to see if Will would respond to the opening he’d left him.

“Did you love Alana?” he asked when he finally broke the silence.

“I loved her for her usefulness,” Hannibal answered truthfully.

His head rocked to the side as Will hit him, knuckles connecting solidly with Hannibal’s jaw.

“Do you love Bedelia?”

“Goodness no,” he scoffed. Pain radiated throughout his face, and he reveled in it. Reveled in the knowledge that he’d pushed Will this far, this easily.

“Are you sleeping with her?”

“Feeling jealous, Will?” he goaded.

Another punch, harder than the first. Or perhaps it just hurt more because it landed in the same spot. Either way, Hannibal laughed, happy to have gotten the response he was looking for. It was almost too easy to manipulate Will in this state.

Will surged to the side, off the bed, and began pacing the room erratically.

Hannibal tested the restraints. As promised, there was no play in the knots. He honestly hadn’t expected there to be any, not with Will’s skill at tying. But as Will had pointed out, Hannibal would have cut deeper if he’d truly desired him dead. By extension, Hannibal theorized that Will may have left some slack, some small possibility of escape from the bindings, if he’d desired a fight.

“Tell me, Will. Are we reenacting a fantasy? Or have we moved to a crime of passion?”

Will shot him an angry glare.

“You are getting what you deserve. That is what we are doing here.”

Will eyed Hannibal’s body before reaching for the duffel bag on the floor. When he returned, he held gauze, tape, and more rope. He set about bandaging the cut on Hannibal’s stomach. He watched Will curiously, not commenting on the lack of antiseptic or ointment.

“You can clean this later. Just need a barrier here for now.”

Hannibal’s brows drew together in confusion. He wasn’t following Will’s train of thought. Until the rope was wound tightly around his waist, and then he appreciated the minimal care Will had given his wound. It still stung, the rope dug into the skin and the bandage quickly turned red, but at least it wasn’t being dragged through the cut. Yet if he was concerned about that, what exactly did he have in mind? Will secured the rope, pinning Hannibal’s midsection to the bed. Now that he could see it better, Hannibal noticed that the rope itself was not rough, but smooth, silken, gliding across his skin as he flexed and was moved, positioned by Will. Warning bells began to ring in the depths of Hannibal’s brain.

Two more lengths of rope were attached to the bindings at his ankles, then fed up through the loops at either side of his waist. Holding tight to the loose end, Will cut the rope holding Hannibal’s left leg to the bed. He yanked on the new rope at the same time, not allowing Hannibal a chance to kick at Will before his foot was being pulled tight against his ass and tied in place.

The process was quickly repeated on the right side, though Hannibal was ready for it and put up more of a fight the second time.

“Will, what are you doing?” There was a slight quaver to his voice, one he made no attempt to hide, as Will cut away Hannibal’s boxers.

“You violated me, Hannibal. You violated my friendship, my trust.” More rope was run under each knee. “You violated my body without my knowledge or consent every time I dined at your table. By encouraging the encephalitis. By placing false memories in my head.” His knees were pushed back, the ropes tied to the ones holding his wrists. He was fully naked, exposed, and bound. Will fixed him with a level stare. “I think it's only fair I do the same to you. I think I need to violate you, before we can move on.”

Hannibal’s heart skipped a few beats. Surely, Will didn’t mean...? He watched as Will returned to bag, retrieving more items.

“At first, I planned only to use this,” he said, waving a rather large sex toy that looked more like a baseball bat than a dildo. “I still might,” he added thoughtfully. “But then I realized something. I’d still feel as though I hadn’t gotten closure, received the full benefit of this little exercise in retribution. For this to work, I have to do it myself.”

“I would never have believed you to stoop to sexual deviancy. You are far smarter, much more creative than this.”

“Distracting me with false flattery will not save you, Hannibal. Short of eating you, I can think of no more intimate a way to scar you. I do not delude myself into thinking that I can match you psychologically—at least, not with words. Sure, physical wounds will heal. But knowing that I was inside you, splitting you open, watching you bleed without even a hint of remorse? Knowing that I left you, in a pool of your own blood and filth, after sating my own needs, my own desires, without a care as to how you felt? That, _my dear Hannibal,_ will stick with you.”

Hannibal breathed as deeply as his contorted position allowed. Will shucked his boxers, his cock standing erect, promising that which Hannibal had never dared to acknowledge he desired—albeit not in such a manner.

“I wonder,” Will mused, holding the obscene dildo, studying it. “How much of this could you take before you break? Before you cry out in pain, beg me to stop?”

Hannibal lifted his gaze to the ceiling, steeling himself. He knew, intellectually, that if he tensed up, the inevitable breaching of his body would hurt more. If he relaxed, things would go easier. Yet for all his formidable self-control, he found it quite a difficult feat to achieve the loosening of his sphincter. Especially when he felt the tip, cold, dry, pressing against him.

“The most enraging thing is that even now, even having you like this, my instinct is to protect you. To make this easier for you. Start with something smaller, prepare you, work up to this. Perhaps use some lube, something to ease the passage. Of course, if I did that, you wouldn’t know how I felt when you stabbed me, now would you? The sudden pain, the anguish, the fear. The confusion.”

The heel of Will’s free hand came to rest against his perineum, his fingers splaying Hannibal’s cheeks, spreading him wide.

“I would have gone with you,” he whispered, so softly that Hannibal scarcely had time to register and process the words. Before he could respond, pain ripped through him as Will drove the head of the monstrous item inside Hannibal.

A deep grunt was the only satisfaction he’d give Will as he fought to stop himself from crying out. The pressure was intense, the pain searing.

“I _wanted_ to go with you.” Louder now, angrier, as the burning spread out from Hannibal’s hole as skin tore. His body tried to reject the invading object even as Will drove it deeper into him. He refused to look at Will, to let him see how this affected him. The pressure increased again momentarily before disappearing altogether. Will climbed Hannibal’s body, wedging himself between his legs, and grasped Hannibal by the back of the head, forcing him to meet his gaze.

“Amazing how much a little unexpected penetration can hurt, isn’t it? It hurts in here—” Will tapped on Hannibal’s forehead, “and it really hurts _here_.” He pressed his hand over Hannibal’s heart, dropped his head to rest against Hannibal’s chest.

“I must admit, I have had a hard time learning your last lesson.” Warm breath caressed his skin as Will remained curled around him. “I am not nearly as skilled as you. I cannot shutter away my emotions to be processed later, if at all, and act in the moment with cold detachment.”

Hannibal swallowed thickly.

“A learned reaction. A means of self-preservation. Of survival.”

“I know that,” Will hissed, hand tightening painfully in his hair.

“You think me so cold, Will. But in all your careful study of me, surely you have realized that the less I react to a situation emotionally, the more affected by it I am? The heart you hold right now remains as fragmented at this moment as the day you broke it.”

“Am I expected to believe that you are more fragile than the teacup, unable to come back together?”

“Without you, Will, I will always be missing a piece.”

Will sat back on his heels. Hannibal watched Will’s face change, watched the softness harden.

“Well then, perhaps I should leave you a part of me. I wouldn’t want you to miss me, after all.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Will, please. I would greatly prefer you to not do this.”

“Nope. Nowhere near begging. Try again, Hannibal.”

“Will, I—”

The words were torn from his lips in a harsh shout as Will drove the dildo into him again. This time at least it felt to be lubed up, although that merely meant he was able to drive it in further and faster. Skin tore, and Hannibal thrashed against his bindings.

“You think I can’t change you, Hannibal? That I haven’t already? I can fix that.” Will withdrew the object, only to push it in again.

“I’ll make it so that any time you meet someone—”

_thrust_

“—anytime you think about getting close to someone again—”

_thrust_

“—you’ll think of me.”

_thrust_

“You’ll clench in fear.”

_thrust_

“You’ll remember me.”

_thrust_

“Remember what happened.”

_thrust_

“Remember that there are consequences for your actions.”

_thrust_

“Remember that people are not just toys.”

_thrust_

“We’re not here just to serve you.”

_thrust_

_thrust_

_thrust …_

Hannibal’s body trembled, his bindings making it impossible for him to find any sort of relief, alleviate any of the pain Will was inflicting.

“Will … please …” Hannibal gasped. The furious pistoning of Will’s arm paused, the dildo buried uncomfortably deep inside Hannibal.

“You have something to say?” he asked, one eyebrow cocked.

“Please,” he repeated, his tone just shy of desperate, choking off the word _stop_ , swallowing it down before it escaped.

“That’s not very specific, Hannibal. Please, _more_?” Will taunted, giving the dildo a small tug.

Hannibal moaned, a pathetic sound to his own ears. “Not more.”

Will slid the dildo slowly back and forth, gently, teasing, and whether he intended it or not, massaged Hannibal’s prostate just enough to cause him to begin to stir. Try as he might, he could not stop his own cock from hardening.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, hating himself for uttering the words, regardless of their truth.

“You’re only sorry that I found you,” Will growled, shoving the dildo forward once more before it disappeared from his body.

Hannibal’s head fell back, eyes closed in relief, though he knew there was still more to come. He was loathe to admit his pain, his desire for this to end—at least with that garish sex toy, which truly hurt. He understood Will’s need for this, his need to extract some sort of recompense from him, to hurt him, scar him as he’d done to Will. Even if it meant violating his body in such a manner, he wouldn’t deny Will anything. Though he’d have preferred any number of other forms of torture, he was willing to give him this closure.

Granted, he’d deny Will the satisfaction of hearing Hannibal beg for him to stop. Will would have to go much further with that toy than Hannibal believed him capable of to achieve that end.

What he _did_ want to beg for, though, he _really_ didn’t care to admit or acknowledge. If he did, he risked taking this from Will, taking the closure the man so desperately sought.

Breath finally caught, Hannibal swallowed, and opened his eyes to find Will poised on his knees staring down at him. The blue of his eyes had darkened considerably since Hannibal first opened the door to him this evening, the pupils dilated wide. He seemed to be contemplating something, his face having taken on the slackness it does when Will goes deep into his own mind, or the mind of another. Will’s ability fascinated Hannibal, and not for the first time he marveled over the beautiful creature before him.

As if aware of Hannibal’s study of him, Will came back to himself with a shudder. He grabbed hold of Hannibal’s legs, steadying himself as he pressed in close. Hannibal could feel the slickness of Will’s cock as it rested against his, and knew he intended to carry through on his promise.

“Truly, I _am_ sorry, Will.”

“That’s not going to get you out of this. I refuse to accept that apology.”

“I understand. It’s—”

Hannibal’s breath was driven from him as Will entered him in one swift motion.

There was pain, from the rawness of his skin as the multitude of small fissures and tears were stretched open again.

There was heat, from the press of Will’s body snug against his.

There was pride, that Will had embraced the darkness within him.

There was pleasure, that Will had found him.

But mostly, there was joy.

Joy, from the sound of the rapturous exhale that escaped Will as he sank himself fully inside Hannibal.

Joy, from the joining of their two selves in a way that could never be undone.

Will began to move, hesitantly at first, and then with more urgency.

“Will,” he gasped again, but this time it was not from a desire for the other man to stop.

Hannibal had always sought knowledge for the sake of having it. He’d experimented with self-pleasure through the use of dildos. Never had he let another man enter him in such a manner.

The feelings couldn’t have been more different.

“Shut up,” Will replied, just as breathless.

Fire spread through his body, from muscles aching with the strain of being held in such a position for so long. From a desire clawing itself up from the depth of his soul, a feeling he’d buried away ages ago, another lifetime ago, a feeling he’d steeled himself against ever having again. From the pure enjoyment of Will’s culmination, his emergence from the shell he’d cocooned himself in to the man now taking his pleasure at Hannibal’s expense.

Hannibal’s cock pulsed with every stroke Will made over his prostate, until he was achingly hard, precum dripping onto his stomach. He longed to have his arms free, to be able to bury his fingers in those soft curls, dig into those hips rocking so perfectly against his, and hold him tight, close, never to let go again.

“So sorry,” he said, eyes catching Will’s gaze and holding it. “I should have taken you with me. With us. Given you the chance, seen your warning for what it was.”

As Will had acknowledged, Hannibal was more than capable of manipulating Will with his words. Curiously, Hannibal found that the ends he sought to achieve now had changed drastically from when they’d first met.

“And what was that?” Will asked, not ceasing his movements.

“An apology. A plea.”

Will narrowed his eyes and snapped his hips, driving himself into Hannibal even harder.

“Instead, you lashed out.”

“I did. It was a mistake, Will.”

“You can’t talk your way out of this, Hannibal.” He grasped Hannibal’s cock painfully tight. “I don’t care if your body is reacting to this. I am going to mark you. I am going to bury myself inside you, drive my cum into you the way you drove that knife into me, and brand you. And then I’m going to leave you as you left me: helpless, bleeding, and forever changed.”

“I understand. It’s okay, Will. Do what you must to me.”

“Goddamn you,” Will growled, increasing his pace once more. His arms circled around Hannibal’s legs, grabbing onto the rope at his waist, anchoring himself. Hannibal watched Will’s face contort, eyes squeezed tightly shut, lips pulled back in a snarl as he sought to drive himself even deeper into Hannibal.

A deep, guttural cry tore through Will as his orgasm overcame him. Hannibal watched, memorizing everything: every sound, every twitch, every spasm. He continued to hold tight to the ropes, and his head dropped down, chin to his chest, as he sucked in ragged breaths. Hannibal’s own body begged for a similar release, but he was used to denying himself. It was worth it, to watch Will completely vulnerable, undone.

To his surprise, Hannibal felt a tear escape, sliding down his temple. He turned his head into the pillow, wiping it away before Will could see it.

Will’s breathing returned to normal, and at last his head lifted. Clear eyes fixed on Hannibal.

“You’re mine now.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

Will shoved himself away from Hannibal roughly and stumbled to the bathroom.

Hannibal was left with nothing to do but wait, as Will hadn’t loosened or removed any of the bindings before leaving him, empty and alone with his thoughts.

It was a strange feeling, the realization that he’d enjoyed having Will’s body inside his. That he didn’t want Will to leave. That perhaps Bedelia had been right, and Hannibal’s feelings towards Will extended beyond friendship, after all.

Hannibal attempted rolling his hips, trying to ease his lower back, and the resulting pain that flared in his rectum drew a hiss from his lips. From the doorway, Will cleared his throat. He leaned against the frame, arms folded, wearing his boxers but nothing else.

“May I be untied now?”

Will took a deep breath and held it a moment before releasing it on a heavy sigh. He dropped his arms and grabbed a vial and syringe from the bag on his way to the bed.

“That isn’t necessary. Please, Will. Please don’t.”

He didn’t speak, barely even glanced at Hannibal’s face.

“Please stay, Will. I don’t want you to go. Please stay with me.”

At that, he gave a derisive snort.

“Stay so that you can try to kill me again? I’ll pass, thanks.”

“No, Will. Not for that. Leaving you behind was a mistake, I see that now. I ask for a chance to rectify that error.”

Will bent over Hannibal’s arm, needle poised at the vein.

“Will,” he said softly. “I forgive you.”

The needle broke the skin, and somehow that hurt Hannibal more than what Will had done to the rest of his body.

“Please, Will. Stay. Please stay. Stay …” Hannibal drifted off, begging Will not to leave him, and thoroughly confused as to what to do if he did, in fact, stay.

 

*****

 

When Hannibal woke, the sun was already high in the sky. Whatever Will had given him had been a far stronger dose than the first one. He rolled his wrists and ankles and stretched cautiously. It was then that he noticed he was covered with the duvet, dressed in his boxers. He threw the covers back and assessed the bandages on his shoulder and abdomen.

“I wouldn’t pick at those too much. I’m not very good with stitches on other people.”

Hannibal’s heart stuttered in his chest at the sound of Will’s voice. Without another word, he passed through the room and went out on the balcony where Hannibal heard the distinctive sound of a lighter. His brows drew together in confusion.

Gingerly, Hannibal rose from the bed and followed him.

“You’re smoking now?”

“An old habit from New Orleans. I figured if I already died once, might as well start smoking again.” He turned and leaned on his elbows on the railing, appearing completely at ease. “Besides, I thought it might make me less appealing of a meal,” he added with a smirk, glancing at Hannibal from the corner of his eyes as he took another drag.

The comment drew a laugh from him as he stepped to the railing as far as he could get from Will. He was acutely aware of Will’s reaction, and didn’t want to worry him that he might attack. Hannibal tried to affect a casual pose, but couldn’t find a position that did not cause pain. Eventually, with a wince, he settled for leaning on the railing as well.

Will’s eyes followed his every move, and though he must have noticed Hannibal’s discomfort, he made no comment on it.

“Does Jack know you’re here? Should I be preparing to move?”

“Nah. Unless you don’t trust Bedelia to keep her mouth shut, we should be fine. Jack is too busy with Bella now anyway. He left the FBI. Nobody knows where I am.”

Hannibal allowed himself a small smile at Will’s use of the word “ _we_ ”.

“That is good. I would very much like to show you around the city. There is a wonderful cafe just a few blocks over. They have the most delectable pastries, and excellent meals. Can I interest you?”

Will threw a look over his shoulder, back into the interior of the apartment.

“There’s a box in the kitchen. I stopped on my way back this morning after I checked out of my hotel. I didn’t think you’d be up to … venturing out very far for a day or two.” He cleared his throat and returned his gaze to the life below them.

_On my way back … I checked out of my hotel …_ Hannibal’s hands itched to embrace Will, but again, he feared Will’s reaction should Hannibal suddenly draw close to him. But that didn’t stop the warmth spreading through him, the odd sensation tickling his stomach at the unspoken implication.

“Are we ‘ _Even-Steven_ ’ again, then, Will?”

“Sure,” Will offered noncommittally.

“Well,” Hannibal said after a long moment. “One must have coffee to go with danishes. I shall go start some.”

Hannibal stood and turned, letting his hand slide along the railing, pausing just out of arm’s reach from Will.

Will’s eyes continued to follow his movements, lingering on the hand that strayed on the weather-worn rock. Hannibal noted the twitch of Will’s hand, a slight movement in the direction of his own, before Will turned away.

Hannibal had never felt so unsure of himself as he did in that moment.

He did not like the feeling.

His entire adult life, he’d been in control of many strings at once, weaving a masterful tapestry around himself. Suddenly, all those strings had been plucked from his grasp, spun, and twisted around him. He was the marionette now, dancing for Will’s entertainment.

There was a part of him that was of okay with that, which was most unnerving.

He busied himself in the kitchen, retrieving plates and cups, still attempting to process all the new information he’d gained about both Will and himself in the past dozen or so hours. The elation of Will’s mere presence distracted him, made it difficult to think of much beyond wanting to touch the man.

While Bedelia had joined him more or less of her own free will, he’d still felt the need to guide, manipulate, monitor and control her actions as she let her own fears consume her. With Will, he felt an ease now that hadn’t been there prior to activities of the night before, as if the man had finally grown into his skin, accepted and embraced the darkness that Hannibal had brought to light. Will was firmly in control of his own actions.

The lingering scent of cigarette smoke indicated Will’s presence before he stepped to Hannibal’s side The quietness of his approach brought Hannibal’s attention to Will’s attire—he’d clearly been here a while waiting for Hannibal to wake, as he wore casual slacks and a simple button-down shirt. A far cry from the ragtag man he’d met that day in Jack’s office, and Hannibal found himself entertaining thoughts on how Will would look fully polished in a well-tailored suit or tuxedo as they attended the finest restaurants, or took in an opera.

Hannibal also smelled soap and mouthwash—Will had washed away the strongest of the cigarette smell and taste before joining him, another bit of information Hannibal filed away for later scrutiny.

Doing so proved unnecessary, however, as the intent behind Will’s actions became clear a moment later.

Will’s hand cupped Hannibal’s cheek, turning his face to him. A calloused thumb stroked over his cheekbone. Hannibal studied the blue eyes, the scruff on his jaw, and the way his nostrils flared the moment the mood between them changed.

Hannibal shifted on his feet, turned so that they faced each other.

Will worried his lower lip between his teeth, as though still unsure of himself even now. It was an action that proved to be Hannibal’s undoing, however.

Before he could stop himself, Hannibal found his hands buried in Will’s hair, his lips pressed against Will’s. A soft whimper escaped Will, and then his hands mimicked Hannibal’s, holding desperately to the back of Hannibal’s head.

There was no stopping for Hannibal now. He turned them and backed Will against the counter as he drove his tongue into Will’s mouth. When at last they parted, Will caught Hannibal’s lower lip between his teeth.

“I thought you’d left,” Hannibal panted, forehead pressed to Will’s as he ground his hips against him, heedless of the pain it caused.

“Where else would I go? Who would I be, without you? Who knows me as you do?”

“Or I, you?” he replied, nuzzling Will’s neck, nipping at it playfully.

Will shuddered as Hannibal slid down his body, pulling at the zipper of his pants. “What are we doing?” he gasped, even as his fingers tightened their hold in Hannibal’s hair.

“I have no idea,” Hannibal conceded as he freed Will from his boxers and took him in his mouth. Will moaned, rolling his hips forward and driving his cock against the back of Hannibal’s throat.

Hannibal let instinct guide him as he lavished attention on the cock that just recently brought him so much pain. He tasted the salty sweetness of Will, breathed in his musky scent as he rocked gently under Hannibal’s ministrations.

“I would say we are doing what feels right, wouldn’t you?” he asked, pulling away. Though he would one day know the taste of Will’s essence, he had other ideas at the moment.

Will didn’t answer him, but he hadn’t expected him to. Hannibal grasped Will’s hips and spun him around, shoving his pants down. Will kicked them aside, allowed Hannibal to spread his legs.

“Shouldn’t we go— _ungh_.” Will’s words choked off in a strangled moan as Hannibal teased his tongue over Will’s opening. Hannibal found himself eager to taste every part of Will, to know every inch of him, consume him in all ways save one. Will was no longer a feast for his table, no. Will was now a feast for his senses, a delicacy to be savored and enjoyed, preserved, never destroyed.

Hannibal pushed a finger inside Will, probing gently before adding another, stretching him as he continued to lick and suck and nip.

“Christ, why does that feel so good?” Will gasped, falling forward to brace himself on his forearms. Hannibal stood, twisting his fingers inside Will as he did so. He pressed his chest to Will’s back, rubbed his aching cock against Will’s ass, seeking some sort of friction, a release. Will gasped when Hannibal bit down on his shoulder, and brought an arm up and around, gripping Hannibal’s hair tightly once more.

“God, yes,” Will moaned as he pushed himself down on Hannibal’s fingers. “Christ, just...” With his free arm, Will reached for the bottles arrayed on the counter, knocking over several before he latched onto one. He thrust it at the hand Hannibal was using to unbutton his shirt. “Fuck me already, damn you.”

“Get this off,” Hannibal growled, tugging on the bottom of the shirt. “No barriers between us, Will.”

He was quick to comply when Hannibal stepped back. Hannibal removed his boxers and eyed the bottle Will had grabbed.

“While I appreciate your enthusiasm, Will, I do not believe balsamic vinegar is an appropriate choice for a lubricant.”

“Well, nothing is labeled, how should I know what I grabbed? I can’t see what’s in them.”

Hannibal laughed lightly as he retrieved the bottle of almond oil.

“I think you’ll find this to be much more suitable.”

“I don’t care what you use, just do it.”

Hannibal grinned as he slicked up his hand and massaged the oil into Will, teasing him with small dips of his finger inside.

Will was panting, squirming, begging by the time Hannibal pressed the tip of his cock to Will’s well lubed hole. The sound that came from Will as Hannibal entered him was exquisite—a combination of joy, relief, and pleasure, so pure and unrestrained that it sent Hannibal's heart soaring.

For several minutes, the air was filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing and skin slapping against skin. Hannibal's fingers dug into Will’s hips, and Will had collapsed onto the counter, head turned to the side with his cheek pressed against the hard surface. Hannibal found that he wanted to watch more than half of Will’s expression, though. He stepped back and spun Will, capturing his mouth as he lifted Will and thrust into him once more.

“Your stitches,” Will gasped.

“Are of no consequence. I want to see you.”

Will was correct, though. The move had caused great pain, and Hannibal was sure that several of the stitches had ripped. As far as he was concerned, Will was worth the pain. But he didn’t want Will’s worry to lessen his enjoyment of this, and with that in mind, he carried Will to the table and set him upon it.

Will traced a finger lightly over the bandage on Hannibal's abdomen as the crimson stain slowly spread over it.

“I told you. Even you aren’t invincible, Hannibal.”

Hannibal leaned forward to kiss Will, ignoring the pain.

“You can fuss over me later,” he said, burying himself inside Will. To his delight, Will’s eyes rolled back as he gasped and clutched at Hannibal’s arms.

Will’s cock bounced between them and Hannibal grasped it, gathering the precum beading at the tip and dragging a fingernail through the slit. Will groaned, and his cock pulsed in Hannibal's hand.

“Hannibal,” he breathed, back arching up from the table.

Hannibal tightened his grip on the back of Will’s neck, fighting to keep control of his body and not end before Will. The way Will was reacting, however, made that quite difficult. His face was undiluted emotion, softened by pure bliss, a reflection of how Hannibal himself felt. He rocked his hips, working Will’s shaft in rhythm with his thrusts.

“Fuck!” Will cried, the warning coming only a split second before he erupted, covering them both in hot jets of his seed. Hannibal groaned his own release on the heels of Will’s, driving his cum deep inside Will.

Hannibal fell forward, resting his forehead against Will’s chest as their racing hearts and labored breathing slowly returned to normal.

“Guess you got to have me on your dinner table after all, didn’t you?”

He laughed, too happy to be bothered by Will’s cheekiness. He didn’t have to lift his head to know that Will had a smirk on his face, or to see that one eyebrow cocked jauntily. Will’s tone had said it all.

Hannibal was beginning to think that he rather liked this new, confident, sassy Will Graham.

 


End file.
